


It's Okay To Cry Over Spilled Milk

by clovesfanfic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Art, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovesfanfic/pseuds/clovesfanfic
Summary: A look at how a moment with Yevgeny triggers a memory of his own childhood.~~The cup bouncing off the ground and cold milk hitting his bare toes instantly triggered a rather unpleasant memory. But then again, there weren’t very many pleasant ones in his childhood to look back on.~~
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher & Yevgeny Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich & Yevgeny MIlkovich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 136





	It's Okay To Cry Over Spilled Milk

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short mostly fluff piece
> 
> TW: There is a flashback to Mickey's childhood which the type of abuse from Terry you would expect. 
> 
> Please enjoy the amazing art by Jena! @gallavich_doodles on instagram! https://www.instagram.com/gallavich_doodles/
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/170068005@N07/49978821277/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 

**_2020_ **

As it would turn out, Svetlana was still married to the old geezer. Mickey’d gotten her new number from Vee after he and Ian discussed it a bit. They wanted to wait a bit after the wedding to have a baby, but the thought of bringing Yevgeny back into their lives was niggling at the back of their minds. Surprisingly, Svetlana, her husband and Yevgeny only lived on the Northside of Chicago and she was willing to meet with Ian and Mickey to discuss joint custody. 

After a few meets at the park with the four of them, and checking out Ian and Mickey’s new two bedroom apartment, Svetlana agreed to start with the boys taking care of Yev every other weekend. 

They picked him up from school on Friday and brought him back to Svetlana’s on Sunday after dinner. It had been four months and the two dads loved having the six year old in their life. 

“Alright, one for big Mick and one for mini Mick,” Ian chirped as he placed a plate in front of each of his boys. It was Saturday of their current weekend with Yevgeny and everyone was up for breakfast. 

“Hey!” Yev complained. He detested the name “mini” seeing as he was a big boy and all. But forgot all about it as he dug into his bacon, eggs, and toast. Mickey doing the same next to him. 

Saturdays usually called for bowls of cereal in front of the couch, but today was one of the rarer Saturdays Ian had a half day shift as an EMT. He tried to schedule weekend shifts on weekends without Yevgeny, but occasionally he had to go in. 

Ian waking up early had aroused Mickey and once Mickey was awake there was no going back to sleep for him. So they’d cajoled Yev away from the cartoons and into the kitchen for a proper family breakfast before Ian would leave for the day. 

“So what are you two gonna get up to today while I’m gone?” Ian asked, eating his own breakfast at the counter, knowing he had to leave in about 10 minutes. 

“Hmm, whaddya say kid? Park and then Patsy’s?” Mickey turned to ask Yev who was sitting next to him. 

Yevgeny finished swallowing the food in his mouth - thank god. They had really been working hard on manners lately, now that he was six. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” he chanted, balling his fists up in front of him and moving them up and down like a little cheer. 

Mickey turned to Ian with a, _well, there’s your answer_ eyebrow raise. 

Ian chuckled and sipped his orange juice, “Well don’t have too much fun without me today. You know how I feel about that.”

“Daddddddy,” Yevvy groaned, shaking his head at his dad’s bad joke. “Don’t worry, silly, we can still have fun tonight when you come home.” Ian smiled and Mickey blushed as they always did when Yev called Ian _Dad._ It was a new thing that had started recently. Before it was Dad and Ian, but now it was Dad and Dad and the dads couldn’t be more thrilled about it. 

“Pinky promise?” Ian teased, and Mickey watched as the six year old, who took pinky promises very seriously reached to stick out his hand to his dad. It was almost in slow motion as he watched Yevgeny’s tiny hand collide with his plastic cup of milk and knock it off the edge of the table. 

The cup bouncing off the ground and cold milk hitting his bare toes instantly triggered a rather unpleasant memory. But then again, there weren’t very many pleasant ones in his childhood to look back on. 

**_1990_ **

“What the FUCK! MICKEY!” Terry roared, jumping up from the table while slamming his fists down on it. “God damn you fucking bastard!” he continued roaring in what felt like Mickey’s small ears. 

“S-s-sorry, Dad,” Mickey stuttered as he scrambled to pick up his glass of milk that he’d just elbowed while eating breakfast with his dad. 

“You got it all over the fucking place you little twat!” Terry spat, literally. Spit particles landing on Mickey’s cheek. 

Mickey felt the cold milk start to leak onto his bare toes and instinctively jerked back. 

Terry snickered, a mean nasty chuckle really, before stepping around the milk and grabbing hold of Mickey’s pajama shirt that his mom had gotten him for Christmas. Their last Christmas before she’d taken off on them. “Yeah, you think that feels bad, ya rotten shit?” Terry boomed, his morning beer breathe raining down on Mickey as he pulled him close. “HOW BOUT THIS?” Terry yanked Mickey to the side and slammed his head down, cheek first into the milk that he’d spilled on the table. “You like that? That’s what happens to brats who mess around!”

“N-no! Pleea-se, “D-dad,” Mickey breathed out as well as he could with his little lips squished against the table, milk filling every crevice of his face. He did his best to shut his eye to stop it from getting into it. “I’ll c-clean it, pwomise.”

Terry laughed at his young son’s pleas. “You can’t clean it. You don’t know how to clean shit. You don't know how to do anything. You’re a screw up, just like your mom. Always giving me a reason to beat you. Never. Fucking. Learns.” Terry punctuated the last part by bringing Mickey’s head up and banging it back down on each word, until he was satisfied. Satisfied for Terry meant a split lip for Mickey.

“Mama!” Mickey cried out, now fighting to get out of Terry’s grasp.

“Ain’t nobody here but me you little cry baby! That what you gonna be? A fucking faggy cry baby? You're six years old! Grow the hell up!”

Mickey stopped struggling in favor of just whimpering under his father’s strong, roughly calloused hand. 

After what felt like an eternity Terry released him, and he could finally take in a full breath. He didn't’ dare look up at his dad. “Now get on the floor and lick that shit up.”

“But Daddy!” Mickey wailed.

“NOW!” Terry boomed, as Mickey lowered to his knees before anything worse happened to him. 

**_2020_ **

“Daddy! Oh no!” Yev’s little voice prompted Mickey into action, moving back from the table as Ian came around to lift Yev out of his chair so he could get out without stepping in the milk.

“It’s okay Yev,” Mickey soothed instantly.

“I’m sorry,” Yev pouted, legs wrapped securely around Ian’s waist. 

“It’s okay, really Yev.” It was Ian’s turn for the comforting. “It was an accident and accidents happen. Right, Mick?”

“Of course, kid. We just gotta clean the shit up before it gets everything sticky and we get ants.”

“I don’t know how,” Yevvy whispered into Ian’s neck, slightly embarrassed. Mickey sucked in a breath at his son’s vulnerability as Ian rubbed his back. It occurred to him that since they had maids where he lived with Svetlana, he’d probably never cleaned up after himself before. Well fuck if he and Ian were going to raise a kid who couldn’t take care of himself.

Before Ian could jump in, as he was usually more experienced at teaching kids things, Mickey spoke up, “That’s okay, I can show you how.” He gulped after the words came out, thinking back to that day when he was Yevgeny’s age and how different his life might have been if he’d had a dad who showed him how to clean up messes instead of shoving his head in them.

“You will?” Yevvy beamed from Ian’s hip, as the ginger slowly lowered him to the ground, lips rolled in, in a tight smile, threatening to become a real smile. He lived for moments like this. Moments where Mickey helped Yevgeny grow and treated him so kindly you wouldn’t dare think he’d had less than stellar parents. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Mickey grabbed the roll of paper towels off the holder and kneeled down to the mess. Yev sidestepping the milk to kneel next to him. 

“Alright kid, we gotta start by soaking up the puddles first,” Mickey explained as he ripped them each a couple sheets. “So lay them on the puddle parts so it soaks up into the paper towel.”

Yev did as he was told. “Cool,” he murmured as the towels soaked up a large portion of the mess on the floor.

Mickey snorted at the fact that his kid was mesmerized by cleaning up milk. “Okay let’s put these in a pile - yeah right there, Yev, good. And here’s more towel. Now we can wipe up what’s left until it’s all gone.”

Ian watched in fascination himself as Yev and Mickey both unknowingly bit their bottom lip into their mouth as they concentrated on wiping up the milk. Yev really was a mini Mickey whether he liked it or not. 

“Let’s try to go from the outside of the mess to the middle so it doesn’t spread,” Mickey gently suggested as Yev’s lack of motor skills resulted in some wayward wipes and swipes. Yev nodded and corrected his technique. 

“I’m doing it Daddy!” Yev squealed, “It’s getting cleaned-ed!” He looked up at both his dad’s for praise. 

“Yeah you are Yevvy.” “Great job, bud.” The father’s praised in unison. 

After the mess was cleaned on the floor, Mickey directed him to throw the soiled paper towels in the trash while he got a damp paper towel and did a once over of the floor to keep it from being sticky. He explained as much to Yev after he threw out the towels. “See? Easy peasy, right?”

“Yup,” Yev affirmed as he sat back at the table, hungry after a big clean up session, digging back into his food. 

Mickey sat back down with him and marveled at how quick the whole thing had resolved. How he knew this likely wouldn’t be something Yev remembered when he grew up. Probably wouldn’t even remember it in a few days. Unlike his own spilled milk memory. He was glad about that. He was glad that he could give his kid the love and reassurance that everything was going to be okay, that he never received as a child. Never received at all until a certain ginger giant came into his life. 

“Alright,” Ian’s sweet voice broke him from his thoughts, “I gotta get to work or I’m gonna be late.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Mickey piped up, not that it was out of the norm. As long they were both up, they always saw the other out to the door with a kiss. 

Ian smiled lightly as he put his plate in the dishwasher and smacked a wet kiss on his son’s cheek, “Be good for Daddy,” he ruffled his hair. 

Yev giggled and shooed his dad and Ian obliged, letting Mickey walk him to the door.

“That was real cute back there,” Ian said as he pulled Mickey in by the hips.

“What?” Mickey questioned, oblivious. 

“You teaching Yev how to clean. You’re so good with him.”

Mickey blushed and looked down at Ian’s EMT uniform top. “‘S’just what a dad does.” Mickey shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yes, it is,” Ian murmured as he dipped down to capture his husband’s lips in a soft smooch. 

Finally pulling back and opening his eyes, “Mmmm, good dad Mick really gets my gears going.”

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Mickey grumbled, ears turning tomato red at Ian’s flirtatious teasing; even after all these years together. 

“Never.” Ian shook his head. “You do things to me. Always.”

Mickey rolled his eyes to the sky, “Go the fuck to work, Firecroth” 

Ian laughed but relented, leaning in for a final peck before giving Mickey a love swat on the butt and turning on his heel out the door. “Love you!” Ian called as he got to the elevators.

“Love ya too,” Mickey answered instinctually and watched him until the elevator doors closed and then sighed contentedly, before heading back in the apartment to finish breakfast with his son. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
